


what you'd do to me tonight

by CompoundCritical



Series: twixt [1]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Animal Instincts, Arabian Centaur Dutch, Breeding, Centaurs, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, First Time, Hermaphrodites, Implied Breeding, Implied Future Mpreg, Loss of Virginity, Lots of Cum, M/M, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Messy, Mustang Centaur Arthur, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Seriously there's a lot of cum, Wet & Messy, anatomically accurate, centaur sex, dead dove do not eat, not safe sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:53:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27035239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CompoundCritical/pseuds/CompoundCritical
Summary: They rested for a few days - the law was persistent, even more so when it came to bank robberies. And they’d heard hounds more than once, though of course they couldn’t say whether or not they belonged to the law or not, seen human riders pass by.And Arthur was coming down with a fever.Couldn’t stop drinking, worried Dutch to no end with how he stretched out next to the pool and didn’t rise, stretching out to peel the moss from the walls, losing his temper at Dutch when he asked if he was well,“Just tired, Dutch!”though even the Arabian was feeling fine after a few days’ rest.He’d nearly kicked Dutch when the stallion had rested his hand on his sweaty flank as he usually did, worried he’d pulled something as they fled, ending up in a full blown screaming match before he finally allowed the older stallion to check his legs for anything pulled or strained, finding them fine.By the end of the week, the twixt was in full heat.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Dutch van der Linde
Series: twixt [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1973119
Comments: 4
Kudos: 48





	what you'd do to me tonight

Arthur was a very lucky twixt.

  
  


He passed easily - they’d not even known he was different when they took the little colt in. Hadn’t known until, a few months later, they'd started smelling that familiar sweetness, though weak as a filly would be.

He’d been _terrified -_ thought they’d beat him like his daddy had, chase him off for being a bad omen like many Southern herds did.

But they hadn’t. Instead, they’d sat him down, told him how to keep safe, and Hosea had learned how to make a suppressant so he could keep passing without risk of his estrus giving him away.

So long as he kept his tail grown out, he passed.

They’d worried, of course, that as he’d grow, he’d pass less. That he’d develop breasts, turn _mare_ not _stallion,_ colts and fillies looked so similar before puberty aside from what grew between their legs so it had been a _very_ valid fear.

  
  


But twenty years later, only Susan, Hosea, Dutch and John knew he was a twixt.

Sure, maybe his tits (all of them, horse _and_ man) were a bit more sensitive than a stallion’s should be. And maybe he had to drink a _nasty_ tasting tea every day, and grow out his tail and his hair a bit longer than most stallions would. But between his legs (aside from his cunt, hidden very well by his tail) he was all stallion, swinging testicles and a very obvious sheath - and he was grateful that he wasn’t a twixt that had a slit on their human half as well, all _male_ there; he was _very_ lucky, only his horse half the twixt.

  
  


Still though, come when he’d enter his estrus, when he’d _itch_ even with more than one type of tea heavy in his stomach, he’d trot out from wherever his herd had made their home, only Hosea and Dutch knowing where he’d be hiding out for fear of even the faintest sweet scent escaping him. Curl up, fighting the urge to seek out a stallion - any stallion, though there were many from the herd he wouldn’t mind letting mount him while he itched, both his cocks swelling, rubbing his rump against whatever he could to try and get some sort of friction as he couldn’t reach to try and tend himself, could only pump his human cock and flex himself until his horse cock bounced and bounced and bounced and spilled across his stomach.

There were, though, some he’d like more than others.

Well, one.

But he didn’t like to think about that - didn’t like to think about being _mounted_ or _bred_ outside of his estrus - and so would shove that thought far, far down the moment the itch died down, go down to a nearby river and bathe until he felt clean.

  
  


Then, of course, he didn’t have much of a choice.

A bank robbery gone wrong, splitting up to keep from leading the lawmen back to camp.

But then they’d been chased _far,_ the lawmen had had _hounds_ and human riders, been able to switch horses and keep fresh where Arthur and Dutch had only their own four legs to run on, and before long they’d been chased clear out of the state and into another, and they’d been well lost by the time they’d shaken the law - then kept going, just to be safe.

  
  


They’d both been flagging - Dutch more so than Arthur. An Arabian, Dutch was made for speed, for bolting not for long chases, and by the time they’d found a crevasse to squeeze themselves into his legs had been shaking and his flanks had been soaked near to grey with sweat. Arthur - a Mustang - was made for distance running, for chasing but not for sprinting, but even he had been shaking, dun fur nearly brown, trudging behind the man who’d insisted on leading the way, making sure there was no danger inside the crevasse.

And then they’d nearly cried, because it had opened up into a beautiful little cave - though being what they were, neither particularly cared for such a thing, being closed in made them uneasy - complete with a pool of water, trickling down the walls and _fresh,_ moss on the stone that (Dutch tasted first) was edible, tasted quite fine actually.

  
  


They rested for a few days - the law was persistent, even more so when it came to bank robberies. And they’d heard hounds more than once, though of course they couldn’t say whether or not they belonged to the law or not, seen human riders pass by.

And Arthur was coming down with a fever.

Couldn’t stop drinking, worried Dutch to no end with how he stretched out next to the pool and didn’t rise, stretching out to peel the moss from the walls, losing his temper at Dutch when he asked if he was well, _“Just tired, Dutch!”_ though even the Arabian was feeling fine after a few days’ rest.

He’d nearly kicked Dutch when the stallion had rested his hand on his sweaty flank as he usually did, worried he’d pulled something as they fled, ending up in a full blown screaming match before he finally allowed the older stallion to check his legs for anything pulled or strained, finding them fine.

  
  


By the end of the week, the twixt was in full heat.

  
  


Dutch had moved to the other side of the cave, near to the entrance to keep guard - and to get as much fresh air as he could, as he could hardly breathe without getting a faceful of _mare-estrus-arousal_ and this was his _son,_ he felt the monster for the arousal he felt rolling in his groins.

Arthur hadn’t moved from where he’d laid down a few days before, curling in on himself to try and hide his arousals, though he was sure the stallion could smell his seed in the air, unable to help the pre-cum that dripped all over his skin and fur, his erections throbbing violently with his need, could smell the slick soaking the inside of his legs.

  
  


And Dutch could.

_God,_ but it smelled amazing. So tantalizing, he’d had to wait for Arthur to fall asleep before trotting out to the very opening of the crevasse to get as much fresh air as he could but, even then, he _couldn’t get the fucking smell out of his nose,_ had finally broken down and reached down to bring himself off, bucking his hips to bring both of his cocks off, making a mess of his stomach and his hand, having to pray that Arthur wouldn’t wake up as he cleaned himself off with the water that trickled down the walls.

  
  


By the fourth day of his first ever unsuppressed heat, the twixt was miserable.

He could barely move to reach the water, could barely strain to reach the moss that remained in his reach. His mouth was constantly dry - the fur on his rump and between his legs was so thick with slick that it felt uncomfortable even when he laid still - and his cocks _hurt._ Hadn’t stopped throbbing in days, dripping and oozing though he didn’t dare risk bringing himself off for fear of Dutch seeing or hearing him, though he’d woken up the night before as he soaked the ground with cum and slick, only his hand flying up and clapping over his mouth so hard he was sure he’d get a swollen lip keeping him from crying out the stallion’s name.

  
  


The fifth, the twixt gave in.

The stallion had walked around him, practically scraping his barrel against the wall in his attempt to stay as far away from Arthur as he could as he went to the pool to drink, and the young twixt had stood, legs shaking violently, and turned to present his rump to Dutch, flagging his tail to present his dripping cunt.

The Arabian hadn’t been able to look away - the twixt’s cunt had been flushed, _glistening_ with his arousal, winking at him invitingly. “Arthur, you don’t…” _‘Want this,’_ he’d been intending to say, _‘this is your estrus talking.’_ though already he’d been beginning to drop from his sheath, his human cock flushing and rising the same.

The younger stallion groaned, his cock throbbing and jerking, splattering pre-cum on the floor, and Dutch’s eyes went wide, _‘jesus!’,_ and he spread his legs, hooves stamping pleadingly, flagging his tail higher and to the side, displaying his cunt, winking rapidly. He lowered his human half, whole body trembling as though he could barely stand, to rest his hands against his fore-knees, and sobbed, “Dutch, _please!”_

Dutch doesn't even remember crossing the cave.

  
  


He stopped beside Arthur, dancing in place to keep from mounting him immediately. Stamped his hooves as he ran his fingers along flanks that twitched violently at his touch, muttered wordlessly and leaned forward to kiss along his dun stripe, before finally rearing up and mounting him.

“Shit!” the twixt grunted, stumbling forward under Dutch’s weight, straightening up and leaning forward to plant his hands against the wall, his hooves dancing on the ground as he tried to get used to the weight of the stallion on top of him. Dutch closed his eyes, taking deep breaths as he tried not to fuck into Arthur, his equine cock throbbing, splattering the twixt’s cunt with pre-cum, the hot head pressing against his rump, dancing from hoof to hoof to contain himself, human cock dribbling a mess on Arthur's back.

“You’re alright son,” he panted, leaning forward to run his fingers through Arthur’s hair, longer than his own if only barely, satisfying his urge to groom his mare, his other hand cradling his human cock to provide some sort of pressure, already near to coming.

“Dutch,” Arthur grunted, stamping a hind hoof before spreading them, trying to press back against the cock-head he could feel _so close_ to where he needed it, able to feel the stallion’s excessive pre-cum splattering him, the scent strong on the air, _“Please!”_

And Dutch didn’t have to be asked twice.

  
  


He fucked into the twixt, groaning as he was _finally_ enveloped in that burning heat, trembling walls giving easily around him, forcing himself to stop only six inches in, nowhere close to the thickest part of his cock, dropping a hand to run his fingers up and down a sweaty flank, Arthur panting beneath him though definitely not complaining from the way he could hear pre-cum dripping to the ground, though he wasn’t in much of a position to see.

Dutch was quite happy with what he _could_ see, though - Arthur’s sweaty back, arched along the wall, hair mussed, those strong muscles of his flexing beneath his dusky fur.

  
  


Arthur was more than glad that Dutch was such a finely built breed - else, he was sure, he’d have collapsed beneath his weight. Even with the stallion on his back being an Arabian he was struggling, all four of his legs bracing against the ground, having planted his palms against the wall to do the same. Dutch was _heavy,_ deceptively so, all muscle beneath that handsome white fur.

He’d never been bred before - never been penetrated at all, preferred to ignore he was a twixt until it came to his estrus and his teas, and this was _strange,_ but in a _very_ good way. The weight on him was a struggle but one he was glad to bear, like a too-heavy blanket, _burning_ to the touch but in an amazing way that sent little bits of burning running through him.

The feeling of Dutch inside him was… he didn’t have words. _Utter pleasure,_ sheer, utter pleasure, like being given something he’d never known he needed. He’d been in _agony_ for the last few days but the moment Dutch had splattered his cunt with his pre-cum it had started to hurt less, and the moment he’d started to stretch around his head it had _stopped,_ had gone from _agony_ to _pleasure_ very, very quickly. So he panted, shifted his weight from hoof to hoof as he tried to get used to the older stallion’s weight, and pushed back, trying to take more of Dutch in him, _“Jesus Dutch, please!”_

And the stallion gave a low chuckle, shakier than he was used to hearing, patting his side like he was just some regular hack horse, “I will son, but first I want you to touch yourself.”

_Shit,_ but he could do that. Propped himself up on his forearm as he dropped his offhand down to stroke his human cock one, two, three times before coming, dropping his forehead against the dirt wall as he soaked it with his seed, groaning loud. Dutch’s fingers dug into his side, pulling out while the twixt was distracted though he wanted to do anything but that, wanted to stay there and enjoy the rippling of those warm, soaking wet walls, wanted to fuck all the way down to his base, wanted a _lot_ of things that didn’t involve pulling out, but he did, splattering pre-cum on the ground and all over their hooves, the twixt’s cunt remaining in an obscene ‘O’ from where it had been stretched around his cock before, while he was still hazy from his orgasm, thrusting in as deep as he could go.

  
  


Arthur took him to his preputial ring, and the younger centaur yelled, hand shooting up to slam against the wall as Dutch didn’t stop, continuing to shove in, dainty hooves dancing, pushing the thickest part of his cock into Arthur’s cunt, until finally he was in and then, with a buck of his hips, he was seated to his base. “Alright?” he asked, rubbing the younger’s flanks just in front of his own forelegs, adjusting his grip when Arthur shifted, holding him tighter though if the Mustang wanted to shove him off he easily could.

“Yeah,” the twixt nodded, shifted his back hooves as he tried to get used to the sheer stretch, flexed his stomach and made his equine cock bounce against him and _oh_ there we go, it had started to hurt a bit though pleasure _burned,_ satisfaction still ran through him - he finally had a stallion, finally had _the_ stallion, the stallion that headed his herd, that he’d wanted for _years,_ that would sire strong, beautiful, fast foals (which was a thought he refused to entertain, and shoved away) - “C’mon Dutch, please.”

  
  


Dutch didn’t last long - but neither of them expected him to. Like a feral horse, no centaur was made to last long, and he had a _gorgeous_ twixt beneath him, all flexing muscles, soaked fur and sweaty skin, silken walls and squelching slick. He grunted under his breath, didn’t waste any words, as he fucked Arthur hard and fast, each thrust making him stagger back and forth, stepping forward and back, his cock bouncing against his stomach until, with a yell, he came, erupting all over his stomach and the ground, even splattering his chest, slumping forward to rest his forehead against the wall, forelegs threatening to buckle.

Though his instincts were _screaming_ \- he had a mare (no, a twixt, no, _Arthur)_ beneath him, gorgeous and _beautiful_ and wonderful who’d make wonderful foals, strong and brave and quick - he’d intended on pulling out when he came and pray for the best, some far away part of him remembering that Arthur hadn’t had any contraceptive tea before this estrus, the young twixt’s noises, his loud moaning, desperate “Dutch!”’s, the rippling of his walls around him, the squelching of his slick that was forced out from around the stallion's cock, the splattering of the younger’s seed dumping to the ground, and he threw his head back with a shout, shoving himself into the hilt as his cock-head flared and his tail flagged, balls drawing up and he began to cum.

Arthur grunted - fuck, that was a feeling, he could _feel_ Dutch’s cock-head flaring inside him, could _feel_ his hot seed pouring into him in ropes, seemingly unending, rope after rope after rope, and he couldn’t help but to shudder at the sounds Dutch was making, quiet grunts and groans with each throb of his cock, shifting from hoof to hoof as pleasure ran through the stallion, the twixt beginning to shiver, feeling thoroughly exhausted, pleasure-wrung and well fucked out. His equine cock had long withdrawn, though it needed a good cleaning, and his human cock sat half-erect, making valiant attempts at dripping pre-cum with every throb of Dutch’s cock.

  
  


Finally, Dutch stilled on top of him, reaching out to run his fingers through his hair and that shouldn’t have felt as good as it did, though he’d been resting his forehead against the wall he lolled his head back into the touch, “Such a good boy for me, Arthur,” he carefully worked free a small tangle, “my beautiful boy.”

The stallion leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his dun stripe then, after a moment, nuzzled his nose into the sweaty fur, before carefully dismounting, Arthur sucking his teeth at the strange feeling of Dutch’s cock leaving his cunt, hole remaining an obscene ‘O’, gushing the stallion’s cum, splattering to the ground and soaking his hind legs and Dutch’s fore, continuing to trickle as the twixt folded his legs and slumped to the ground, reclining against the wall to keep his human half out of the mess though his fur was a complete loss, the ground soaked through with their combined seed.

Dutch stared in horror at the mess between Arthur’s legs, at his seed that matted the twixt’s flicking tail, though the part of him that was _stallion_ and _instinct_ was preening, practically wagging its tail, and he couldn’t stop staring at the ‘O’ that, even with his legs tucked up beneath him, was easy to see, still dribbling white, nearly painted in it, the rest of him screaming _‘what have I done?’._

He wasn’t upset that it was Arthur. He’d been gone on the man for years.

But he couldn’t believe he’d lost control of himself like that. Fallen to his base instincts, tried to breed up the man during his heat, when he was just trying to help him, when he was so miserable, had failed at something so simple as _fucking pulling out_ just because it felt too good.

  
  


Then, though, Arthur was looking up at him, blinking blearily and smiling soft, and Dutch couldn’t help but to return it, folding his legs beneath him and stretching out, offering his arm for Arthur to lean against him and the younger did, curling up and using him as a pillow, struggling to stay awake and quickly giving in to sleep.


End file.
